


The Time To Hesitate Is Through

by nerdwegian



Series: Tumblr Prompts [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M, Tumblr Prompt, cuddling for warmth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-30
Updated: 2014-03-30
Packaged: 2018-01-17 12:53:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1388392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdwegian/pseuds/nerdwegian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil isn't entirely sure what Clint's getting at—it's too cold and his mind feels just a little bit sluggish—but he nods anyway, because it's Clint, and whatever Clint has in mind, it can't make the situation any worse. Probably. Maybe.</p><p>(Tumblr prompt:  C/C cuddling for warmth.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Time To Hesitate Is Through

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Laura for the beta! <3
> 
> (This isn't actually a _series_ series, it's just my collection of tumblr prompt responses above a certain word count. Read the [series description](http://archiveofourown.org/series/86434) for more information.)

"We can hear you, and we're fine," Phil reassures Steve over the comm link, focusing on keeping his voice even through his shivering. "A speedy rescue would be much appreciated, however. It's, pardon my French, fucking freezing down here, and someone is sleeveless and won't take my jacket."

"Fuck off," Clint grumbles as Steve laughs.

"We'll be down there in not too long," Steve says, and he only sounds a little worried, the way he's always worried about people. "Tony's got some monstrosity to locate you guys and dig you out. ETA maybe thirty minutes at most."

Because, of course, Tony would have a machine or a robot or _something_ , to dig them out of a miraculously created avalanche in July.

"Sounds good, Captain. Looking forward to getting out of here," Phil says, and then signs off.

Clint's huddled in the corner, knees drawn to his chest, arms wrapped around himself, and his fingers tucked into his armpits. The light stick provides more than enough illumination for Phil to see the scowl on Clint's face.

"You okay, Barton?"

"Fine, fine, just fine," Clint answers, but his tone is sullen. "I'm just glad we caught the guy."

"We're gonna have to update our security measures," Phil says, trying and failing to control his chattering teeth. "A guy who can create this kind of weather out of nothing can't be contained through regular means."

Clint scoffs. “No shit. Tell me, is it just me, or is the world getting weirder and weirder? I mean, fucking alien gods and magic and people comin' back from the dead…”

Clint trails off. The uncomfortable silence seems tremendous in the cramped space.

"Yes," Phil eventually says, "well…"

And then he doesn't know what else to say, because he's not apologizing for what was done to him, and he's _done_ apologizing for keeping his resurrection a secret for as long as he did, and there's really not much else to do. Turning, Phil ends up sitting with his back half towards Clint, and only realizes too late that it might seem like he's giving Clint the cold shoulder (ha!). It does absolutely nothing to dissipate the awkwardness between them.

The silence stretches on, and Phil wraps his jacket tighter around himself, rubs his arms to keep circulation going, and strains to listen for sounds of their rescue. He doesn't hear anything from beyond all the snow and ice, but there's a faint shuffling sound from Clint's corner. When Phil moves his head enough that he can see Clint out of the corner of his eye, however, Clint's sitting immobile in the same position as before. Phil dismisses the shuffling as nothing, and starts reciting the American presidents, just to see if he can—just to keep his brain occupied and distracted from the way his fingers have started to go numb.

A few more seconds go by, and Phil's just trying to remember who came after James Monroe, when the shuffling sound comes again. Clint's still in the same position, but—Phil frowns—is he a little bit closer than before?

Phil's up to Millard Fillmore (which his brain keeps trying to turn into Millard Fillard) when the shuffling comes again, and this time Phil blatantly turns to look at where Clint's not-so-subtly scooting across the floor on his ass.

"Did you want something, Agent Barton?"

Clint's scowl deepens and he looks conflicted for a few moments, before he sighs and says, “I'm… kinda cold.”

"Do you want my jacket?" Phil offers again. Even though he doesn't want to think about how cold he'll be if he takes it off, he would for Clint.

"No, you need that," Clint says, and then his entire posture slowly relaxes a little, shoulders lowering a tad and head coming up, scowl giving way to a hopeful expression. "But I thought maybe…?"

Phil isn't entirely sure what Clint's getting at—it's too cold and his mind feels just a little bit sluggish—but he nods anyway, because it's Clint, and whatever Clint has in mind, it can't make the situation any worse. Probably. Maybe.

Clint breathes out a relieved sigh, and before Phil can really react (god, every limb is _so cold!_ ), Clint has scooted the rest of the way over and wrapped himself across Phil's back like an octopus, legs on each side of Phil's body and wrapping around him, and arms sneaking underneath Phil's. Clint's big hands cover Phil's, and even though Clint's skin is really cold, Phil can feel the promise of body heat already.

Resting his chin on Phil's shoulder, Clint sighs again, and this time he sounds downright happy. “Better,” he declares, and his breath is warm against Phil's cold ear.

Under normal circumstances, Phil would probably have tensed up, but the cold and the dark and the desire to feel warm overrides everything else. Leaning his head sideways to press his ear against Clint's cheek, he snuggles unashamedly back towards Clint's body, and if Clint's surprised, he doesn't show it.

"Next time we fight a dude who can create blizzards out of nothing, I call dibs on being stuck at command central," Clint says, but he doesn't sound cranky anymore.

"Then who will be the sniper?" Phil asks.

"Psht," Clint says. "Steve's friend? Barnes? He's good with a gun and should be cleared for field duty soon, last I heard. Also, hey, appropriate code name."

"I don't think he goes by that anymore," Phil muses. His teeth have almost stopped chattering.

"Whatever," Clint says dismissively. He moves his head up from Phil's shoulder and Phil almost makes a noise of protest, but then he can feel Clint's breath on his neck, warm and steady, and that's okay too. Silence settles between them again, except this time it's comfortable. Familiar. Like it used to be.

Behind him, Clint shifts a little, fingers stroking across Phil's, and Phil suddenly becomes awkwardly aware that he's got his ass right up against Clint's crotch.

And Phil's a terrible person, because they're trapped in the ruins of a building that got destroyed by a magical blizzard, and it's so cold here they might both get hypothermia before they get rescued, but damn if his dick doesn't make a valiant attempt at getting hard in his pants.

"Why are your ears red?" Clint asks, suspiciously.

"Are they?" Phil asks, and pretends he can't feel it.

"Your ears only turn red when you're embarrassed about something."

Phil wishes Clint didn't know him so well.

"It's probably from the cold," he says, but when Clint exhales again he's closer than before, and the warmth of his breath sends a shiver down Phil's spine and makes his dick jump again, hardening even in the cold. Phil would be impressed, if he wasn't so embarrassed.

He's a _terrible_ person.

"I don't think it's from the cold," Clint says, craning his neck to look over Phil's shoulder and down the length of his body.

It's Phil's turn to scowl as he pulls his limbs closer to his body. He knows his blush is deepening though, and Clint notices too, because he laughs softly.

"Shut up," Phil grumbles, feeling humiliated and trying to hide it. "I might be more starved for human contact that I realized."

"Please. I saw you hug that hacker just earlier today," Clint says. "Or rather, I saw her hug you. I bet she hugs you all the damn time."

Phil sighs, and then has to admit, “More than is reasonable, yes.” Skye's taken to hugging him every time he goes off on a mission, because she's decided that it's important to appreciate what you've got while you still can.

(Given everything they've been through together, Phil can understand it, if he doesn't exactly share Skye's—openness about it. So he accepts her hugs, same as the rest of the team, and none of them say as much, but Phil knows they all like the way it makes her eyes soft and happy.)

Phil braces himself for Clint's usual brand of teasing, but it doesn't come. Instead, Clint's fingers change their rhythm where they're still stroking across Phil's. His pressure eases and it becomes more of a caress than simply trying to keep circulation going. Phil's heart picks up in his chest, because he doesn't want to read these signals wrong.

"If you're fucking with me, Clint, so help me god I will have you assigned to Arkansas. And I _know_ how much you hate Arkansas.”

Clint chuckles a little. It's mostly soundless, just a faint rumble through his chest that Phil can feel against his back, but it doesn't seem mocking or malicious. Then Clint gently kisses one of Phil's red ears with surprisingly warm lips, before he kisses his way down Phil's neck.

Phil can't help the sharp intake of breath, and—yep. His dick has defied the cold, and gone rock hard. Against his ass, Phil can feel Clint's dick is stirring too, and it helps reduce the mortification that's trying to push up and out from Phil's chest.

"Interesting choice of words," Clint says. "Fucking with you."

Phil tries hard not to laugh, because laughing will just encourage Clint further. “Shut up,” he says.

"Oh come on," says Clint. "Just let me make _one_ joke about fucking with you later, just _one_ joke!”

Just then, there's a faint whirring sound from somewhere close, and then a big chunk of ice and snow is flipped away by a lean, robotic arm. Phil's eyes take a moment to adjust to the harsh daylight, but within seconds, he can make out Steve's form as he climbs towards them. Behind him, Phil can see something that looks like a bigger version of one of the robots Tony keeps in his lab, with various types of shovels and pickaxes and equipment strapped to it.

"Took you guys long enough," Clint says.

"Everyone okay?" Steve asks, and he sounds worried even as he helps them to their feet and hands them each a thermal blanket. Untangling himself from Clint's body and wrapping himself in the thermal blanket feels wonderful, but awful at the same time, and Phil tries not to think about it.

"Yes, thank you, Captain, we're all right," Phil says, nodding so he won't have to extend a hand out from underneath his blanket to shake Steve's.

"I want to spend the next _month_ in Tony's hot tub,” Clint says, gesturing for Steve to lead the way. Steve nods and helps them out of their little hole, where more people are already waiting with more blankets.

"Well, that was fun," Tony says when he meets them at the edge of the frozen landscape, melting ever so slightly under the hot summer sun. "And by fun, I mean, let's never do it again. Sorry it took so long to get you guys out."

"Eh," Clint says, shrugging and nudging a shoulder against Phil's. "We'll be fine."

End.


End file.
